My old daddy use to tell me about the war he had to fight,
He said don’t believe those movies, cause killing ain’t no pretty sight. He said no one is born a hero you just fight to stay alive,
Cause when those bullets start to flying your only thought is to survive.
No matter what people may say, freedom it don’t come free, And I pray you never see the things that I had to see.
And he said son the taste of freedom is a taste worth dieing for, And that should be the only reason to ever fight in those damned old wars.
He talked about his comrades, so many now are gone,
He said I am a lucky one to see my son full grown.
So many young men back then were buried where they fell,
You see son war is not a game it’s a living, breathing hell.
You’re fighting for what you know is right and they are fighting for what they believe, While mothers on both sides just pray and weep and grieve. And when they get that letter that says their son will not return, They say one last prayer for others, Lord will they ever learn.
To say you really hate someone is a truly ruthless thought,
But there are those that feel that way and why these wars are fought. Son he said I don’t think there will ever be peace as long as men exists, Freedom is our gift and we must protect no matter how much they persist.
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